


[Gift] Subject of Desire

by OneofWebs



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cock Warming, Communication, Consensual Kink, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasizing, Free Use, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, Lingerie, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Riding, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Trans Will Graham, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: Will has a desire: he wants to be helpless, used, and entirely at Hannibal's mercy. It takes a bit of courage to bring it up, but Hannibal has never disappointed him before.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 17
Kudos: 196





	[Gift] Subject of Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday Gift for my lovely roach son!! Here's his [Instagram.](https://instagram.com/roach_manmilo?igshid=1iqucpggnd3cx) He does a lot of great art, so consider checking him out!

Dinner was not the best time to have any sort of conversation regarding intimacy, but dinner was still the most intimate thing they ever did outside of the bedroom. It was fine, wonderful, in fact. There was little Hannibal wasn’t willing to do. So far, he’d preformed extraordinarily beyond expectation with everything Will had thrown at him. Almost everything, because there was one thing Will had yet to say. It just felt like too much. Maybe like something that Hannibal would draw the line at.

There was, unfortunately, only one way to find out. That happened to be blurting out a rather innocuous question after swallowing down a bite of meat that Hannibal was no longer trying to pretend was pork loin.

“Can we talk about something?” Will asked, before he could think for a moment and realize this was neither the time nor place, nor did he even want to ask this question.

Hannibal looked at Will for the entire duration of his chew, then swallowed. “Of course,” he said. “What would you like to discuss?”

Will could make something up to cover his shame, but Hannibal would see right through it. Already, in the resounding silence, Hannibal could see right through him. He wore it plainly on his face, too, Hannibal. Trying to pick apart all of the possible things Will could want to talk to him about. Will wasn’t exactly offering up any evidence, himself, but Hannibal’s mind was working, already trying to figure it out. It might have been better if this were something that he _could_ just figure out, then Will wouldn’t have to say it.

“It’s about, uh,” Will breathed, deeply, “sex.”

“An interesting topic for the dinner table,” Hannibal replied. “Have you come to find something unsatisfactory?”

Will shook his head. This was awful. If only he could have just kept his big mouth shut. But he’d opened these floodgates, so he was going to be the one to close them. Besides—there was nothing he could say that Hannibal would judge him for. The man killed and ate people just seemingly because he could. Will could have a kink or two.

“Nothing like that,” Will assured. “I was just hoping we could try something, provided you’re not completely put off by the idea.”

“Well, I won’t know until you explain, though that’s highly unlikely. Should we finish dinner, now, or would you like to continue?”

That was simple, then. Hannibal was open enough to having the conversation, so Will wasn’t going to continue to beat around the bush. They were, however, going to finish dinner. They could talk afterward, and they did. It was a long, fretful conversation about what Will wanted. More specifically, what Will wanted Hannibal to do _to_ him. This was about as nonreciprocal as things could possibly go in the bedroom. All about power, control. Will wanted to feel helpless, and Hannibal made it so, so easy.

“Now,” Will said, before Hannibal could even open his mouth to respond, “don’t just agree because I want it. If you don’t like it, then we shouldn’t do it.”

Hannibal offered a soft smile, one filled with fondness. The kind that only struck him when he was looking at Will. “Of course,” he said. As much as it might have pleased him to agree to anything Will wanted, he knew his own limits. There were few of them, and Will’s newest desire did not even begin to bridge that gap.

“What you’re explaining sounds like quite the adventure,” Hannibal continued. “I should like to do this for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Without a doubt, Will, I assure you.”

The way Hannibal was looking at him, leering at him, had Will shuddering already. There was a promise hidden somewhere behind that smile on his face. Will would not regret asking for this. In fact, he might sooner ask for it again.

Exactly one week later, Will found himself tied to the headboard with some of the finest silk he’d ever felt against his skin. Hannibal made sure it was tight: tight enough that Will couldn’t struggle himself out of it, but loose enough that it didn’t cut off his circulation. Masterful, careful. Will was stripped down to nothing, though he kept his legs pressed together. He felt _exposed_ , and Hannibal was just standing there, looking at him like he might examine a cadaver.

It was unfairly attractive. Will shivered, just from the look. It was always comfortable in the house. Warm. Hannibal liked to ensure Will was _very_ comfortable, but the way he was looking at him. Will almost couldn’t return the glance. He shifted his hands above his head like he might be able to wriggle himself free—but it wasn’t happening. Hannibal grinned, giving off the lightest scoff of laughter, and finally dropped his hand down from his chin and stood straight. He was fully dressed, still, in one of his nicest suits.

“The point of this was to get _out_ of bed,” Will said, a bit of bite to his voice.

Hannibal hummed, clearly amused. “Now, Will, you entrusted yourself to me, did you not?” He came around the bed, trailing his fingers along Will’s leg as he approached. “I should think that means you wouldn’t ask questions.”

Will frowned. Hannibal came to sit beside him on the bed, fingers trailing over Will’s sternum and up to his neck.

“Should I ask for your color already?” Hannibal wondered. “You know I will stop if you wish me to.”

Will sucked in a deep breath and released it. Not quite a sigh, but a hard exhale. “Green,” he said. “Do your worst.”

Hannibal didn’t respond. That would have been too easy. Instead, he stood from the bed and shed himself of his suit jacket. Beneath, he wore a simple dress shirt, buttoned up the front. He undid the cuff buttons and worked slowly to roll his sleeves up to the elbow. Will watched, swallowing down the lump in his throat. This was a look Hannibal only adorned when he was serious, about to _work_ at something. The idea made Will squirm and press his knees together.

His modesty, fake as it was, lasted all for about three seconds before Hannibal’s hand was on him, sliding up from his knee to the meat of his thigh where he dug in his fingers, urged Will to part his legs. Hannibal gave a smile when Will conceded. It was oddly proud—spreading legs wasn’t so hard, after all, and Will always seemed so _hesitant_ to do so. Hannibal shifted up the bed, just the slightest bit, and rested the palm of his hand over Will’s pelvis.

“You’ll forgive me if this seems a bit clinical,” Hannibal said. “I’m rather looking forward to the next part.” He leaned down, offering Will a patronizingly soft kiss to the cheek. “We have all day, after all,” he whispered, and Will felt the shiver go down his spine. He was _fucked_.

Hannibal’s fingers slipped down, his hand curving over Will’s mound, and pressed right over Will’s labia. Spreading him open. Will was dry, but he was quivering. Hannibal didn’t stop to think twice of it, just dragging his fingers through Will’s slit. Without anything to ease the pass, the friction took right over, and Will gasped. He pressed his head back into the pillows, closing his eyes. It did feel clinical, but in the best possible way. Like Hannibal was just analyzing him. Picking him apart.

The touch only left in what short time it took Hannibal to dig through the nightstand and find what he needed. Will watched him set the lubricant on the bed, and then hold up two different plugs, two different sizes. Will wanted to groan, wanted to hide. This was just—but god, Hannibal looked so fond. Quite proud of himself for being able to pull off just about anything Will asked him to.

“You should think about which you might prefer,” he crooned. Will nodded.

Will tugged at his bonds in a sudden jolt, the first slick touch through his cunt. Hannibal’s fingers were practically dripping in the lubricant. Way too much. Too cold. Will shifted his thighs apart wider, on instinct, and closed his eyes as Hannibal just stroked him. From his clit, down to his hole, and over, until he was offering the faintest of wet touches down Will’s taint and nearly beyond. Will bit down on his lip and just. Let himself feel it. Tried not to think too deeply about how Hannibal was staring at him.

He didn’t need to look to see what he was doing. He’d had his fingers down over Will’s sex so often that he knew every dip and divot and crevice as well as he knew anything else. Hannibal pulled away only to dribble more lubricant over his fingers, and then, he was crawling up onto the bed—shoes and all—to kneel between Will’s spread thighs.

“Truly a sight,” Hannibal muttered, mostly to himself, but Will heard him. Will heard him and it made him flush. He jolted at the next touch, more _wet_ and fingers pressed right up against his hole. Will shivered, thighs trembling with the strain to keep himself spread open.

Then, _finally_ , Hannibal pressed a finger into him. Will’s jaw dropped open as he breathed, hard, through his mouth. Just a single finger, so slick the friction was entirely lost, but the _friction_ wasn’t the point. Hannibal worked him with just the single digit, spreading lubricant deep inside of him. Almost immediately, Will started to react. His own slick, his hips bucking and rolling down onto Hannibal’s touch.

“You are so fucking slow,” Will groaned.

“Patience,” Hannibal urged. He punctuated himself by pressing a second finger inside, and Will’s head rolled back as he felt the stretch. “Good things come with time, Will. You should know this better than anyone.”

Will’s hips twitched. “ _Better_ things come if you’d stop being a fucking tease.”

“Language,” Hannibal chastised.

He crooked his fingers, all at once, and Will gasped. Right up against that spot was where Hannibal chose to play, pressing his fingers in hard, massaging in little circles. With his free hand, he pressed down on Will’s mound, using his thumb to circle around Will’s clit and have him crying out.

“Fuck—” Will’s hips bucked, nearly wildly, trying to get _more_ of that. And just like that, Hannibal stopped. His second hand left, resting idly on Will’s thighs, and his fingers pulled back to just spread out through Will’s slit.

“Clinical, my fucking ass,” Will muttered. “You’re having fun.”

“Why ever would I not be?” Hannibal hummed. He ran his fingers through the dripping lubricant, the mix of Will’s own slick, and pressed it inside of him. “You’ve given me the entire day to simply _enjoy_ you, Will. I can think of little else that seems more fun, as you put it.”

Will squirmed as Hannibal worked into him. Still just two fingers, but they spread out, stretched him open. He gasped, groaned lowly as Hannibal worked inside him. This was the part Hannibal liked—using his intimate knowledge of the human body to have Will falling apart on his fingers. It worked like a charm, nearly every time. One crook to the side was all it took to have Will coming apart, crying out through parted lips. His eyes closed tightly as his orgasm washed over him.

“ _Fuck_ , Hannibal—” Will gasped. “That’s not—”

“Not fair?” Hannibal mused. “Please, Will, you know that I don’t play fair.”

He knew that entirely too well. Hannibal didn’t even stop; one orgasm was never enough. This was going to be a _game_. How many times? They had the whole day, after all. Will’s orgasm barely thrummed to a stop before Hannibal was pressing a third finger into him. Stretching him wider, breaching him open. All Will could do was pant his way through it, breathe deeply and try not to lose himself in the feeling. Hannibal’s fingers inside of him, working diligently over every stretch of soft, slick skin.

“Have you decided?” Hannibal asked, and Will watched him glance towards the plugs he’d set out on the nightstand. “I believe I’ve given you ample time.”

Will huffed out a hard breath. The answer was difficult, especially as Hannibal chose that exact moment to crook his fingers again. He was toying with Will, taking him so _quickly_ to the edge with his free hand back where it had been, pressing over his mound and thumb grinding into his clit, and then stopping. Will was riding that fine, fine line between another intense rush of heat and wanting to strangle Hannibal with his legs, somehow, just because he was being a shit about the whole thing.

“Bigger one,” Will finally managed out.

“Of course. I simply wanted to hear you say it.”

“Fuck,” Will groaned in response. Hannibal spread out his fingers and started to move them, fucking Will with them instead of that languid, leisurely pace he’d taken before. Will twitched each time Hannibal’s fingers bottomed out inside of him. Another hot rush of pleasure came over him, white and searing—his back arched, and he cried out.

Will was left shaking by the time Hannibal pulled his fingers back. He went straight for the plug Will had specified—it was glaringly black, tapered down to a flared base to ensure it stayed where it belonged. Hannibal took that and rubbed it straight through Will’s swollen labia, gathering up the slick and lubricant on its tip. He made sure it was fully coated, dripping wet by the time he shifted it to press against Will’s hole. Will keened as the press began.

Hannibal started slow, just working the tip of the plug in and fucking it back and forth. More lubricant—way more than was necessary, Will was sure, but it felt so good. Tingly and warm against his sensitive skin. Hannibal eased the plug in farther on the next press, working Will over each new stretch until he could take it with ease. The thickest part was always a bit of a challenge. As it moved up against him, Will went tense, shifting his feet into the blankets and tugging himself back on his bonds.

“Relax,” Hannibal said, his voice soothing. He rubbed along Will’s thigh, massaging the skin right in the crook of his pelvis. “You can take it. Think of what I will do to you afterward. I was thinking of serving _you_ as the main course tonight.”

Will sucked in a deep breath. He felt the width of the plug stretching him open, a slow, arduous press as Hannibal twisted the plug in him, worked it deeper what felt like one single atom at a time.

“You’ll not know when it’s to happen, of course, because where would the fun in that be? I may not even touch you at all today.” Hannibal stroked his thumb along Will’s outer labia, pulling him open for the plug. “Though, you do make such a tempting offer, dear. Look at how wet you are.”

Will gasped as the plug finally slipped into him. It sat firm and thick, keeping him open. His hips bucked into nothing, just at the feeling of it inside of him. Hannibal pulled away and only returned with a soft cloth, one that he dragged between Will’s thighs to clean him of the slick, wet mess he’d made.

“What would you like to wear, dear?” Hannibal asked. “I shall pick out anything you like. I wouldn’t want to assume your mood, after all.”

Hannibal discarded the cloth in the laundry hamper before returning to sit at Will’s side. He stroked down the side of Will’s face, over the scruff of his chin, down his neck. He paused right over Will’s chest, careful to keep his touch light. Will knew exactly to what Hannibal referred to, and it had to do with the scars that lined the undersides of his now flat pectorals. Will sucked in a breath; he didn’t even have to think about it, because he already knew the answer.

Hannibal grinned when he heard it. He stroked his fingertips down Will’s neck again before leaning down and kissing him quickly, deeply, enough to make Will _want_ just before he pulled away.

“Such a shit,” Will groaned. “Fuck—”

“Patience. You’ll get what you deserve, I assure you.” Hannibal went to the closet and spent much longer shuffling around than he needed to. He was doing it on purpose, too. If Will knew _anything_ about Hannibal and that smug look on his face, it was on purpose. Just long enough to leave Will squirming, clenching down around the plug inside himself in some rabid desperation for it to mean something.

Then, Hannibal returned. He sat back on the edge of the bed, setting Will’s outfit to the side, and looked at him. He looked at Will for a long time, up and down, taking him in. Swallowing him whole, really.

“How would you like to be perfectly helpless all day?” Hannibal asked, taking Will by the chin.

“That’s the point,” Will bit back, always just enough snap to keep things interesting.

Hannibal grinned in response. “Even if it means you wouldn’t be able to do anything? You would simply be,” a pause, “a beautiful decoration.”

That made Will shiver.

“Oh, you seem to enjoy that.”

Hannibal didn’t waste a mere second, after that. He undid Will’s bindings and helped him out of bed. Will stood there on shaky legs, but Hannibal held him steady until he was sure Will could stand on his own. By some miracle, he was able to. He stood there, only using Hannibal for support when he had to raise up his legs so Hannibal could _dress_ him. Hannibal hadn’t untied his wrists, just released them from the headboard. Will couldn’t do anything, and that was entirely the point.

Once Will was dressed, something comfortable and loose, Hannibal spun him around. He was quick with his work, untying Will’s wrists only to pull his arms behind his back. The silk was back on his skin in an instant, laced from his fingers to his elbows to keep his arms stiff behind his back. Once that was settled, Hannibal pulled Will back, and Will stumbled over his own two feet, falling into Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal’s arms came around him; Hannibal molded himself to Will, that even with his bound arms between them, Will could feel the press of Hannibal’s cock into his backside.

“You’ll need my help with everything,” Hannibal whispered right into the shell of his ear. “Do be sure to ask nicely, won’t you? I love it when you say please.”

Will shuddered and closed his eyes. Standing felt so strange with the plug inside of him. With expert precision, Hannibal stroked his hand down Will’s chest and found his nipple through the fabric of his shirt, rubbing over it, tweaking it between his fingers until it stood pert and hard. Hannibal’s breath was on his neck just before he kissed right at the junction of his shoulder. Up, up, all the way to Will’s jaw before he finally turned Will around to kiss him fully, properly.

Their lips slotted together, and Will moaned into it. He instinctively tried to put his arms around Hannibal, as Hannibal’s were around his waist. But they wouldn’t move. Bound tightly. Just like that, the kiss was gone. Hannibal pulled away and pushed Will back, so he sat back down on the bed. Will sat there, frowning, watching as Hannibal unrolled his sleeves, re-buttoned the cuffs, and shrugged his jacket back on.

“Shall we start the day?” Hannibal asked. He held his hand out for Will, and Will’s frown just deepened.

“And you say I’m a brat,” Will muttered.

“Of course.” Hannibal then stepped up and helped Will stand, taking him by the shoulders and tugging him to his unstable, shaky feet. “I believe there was a case you wanted to work on?”

Will just snorted. That wasn’t happening at all, and he knew it. Hannibal gave everything away with the glint in his eye and the subtle tilt of his head. Sometimes, Hannibal was too smart for his own good. So smart that he turned stupid, and that was just where Will wanted him. It always meant for the most exquisite types of fun.

Doing just about anything was difficult, and Will felt more and more like a fool the longer he _tried_. Even walking was strange, with his arms tied behind his back, but the deep-seated shame was just a part of the fun. Feeling like an idiot, noticing the way Hannibal looked at him with all the fondness he could muster. Neither one of them proved to very good at this game. Hannibal lasted about an hour before he left whatever it was he’d been _pretending_ to work on and slapped Will across the ass.

Will yelped, and in the next second, found himself slammed up against the wall. Hannibal held him there, a well-placed hand right at the back of his neck like he was some unruly dog. Hannibal’s breath against his ear—Will shivered. There was absolutely no precursor. Hannibal’s hands were just on him, immediately, ripping open his jeans and pushing them down.

“I can’t stand the way you’re acting,” Hannibal nearly _growled_ , and if that didn’t have Will jumping where he stood. His face was pressed into the wall, Hannibal’s hand squeezing ever slightly on his neck. “You’re distracting.”

“Maybe you just aren’t as good as thinking with the right head as you think,” Will bit back, and that earned him another hard slap to the ass. This time, there were no jeans protecting him, and he yelped as it stung across his skin.

“Look at what you’re wearing,” Hannibal gawked. He _knew_ what Will had on—had put it on, himself, but the play was a nice touch. Will bit down on his lip. “You’re practically begging for this. I’m sure you wouldn’t actually want our newest killer caught, would you?”

Hannibal dragged his fingers down Will’s ass, feeling the soft silk of his panties. He took a handful and squeezed, pulling Will open. He kicked his legs apart, and Will went so willingly it was sinful.

“Who would fuck you like this?” Hannibal wondered. “If our killer was caught? You’d be so _empty_ , Will. So lonely.” Hannibal worked his hand between Will’s thighs and found the base of the plug. “You’re already begging for me, just with this.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Will gasped. The first tug was nearly painful, but he reveled in it. It made him tremble. The resounding _emptiness_ as Hannibal set the plug aside was criminal. Will’s hips rutted back against nothing, but Hannibal was back in an instant.

Hannibal didn’t even bother with his clothes. He undid his belt, opened his pants, then tugged out his cock. He was already hard. He’d _been_ hard since the preparation and watching Will try to act like everything was normal was somehow more painfully arousing than anything ever had been. Hannibal should have known how to control himself, by this point, but he didn’t. His cock was an angry red, head swollen and beading with a droplet of precum.

Hannibal squeezed himself, right beneath his cockhead, then pushed forward. He tilted Will’s hips back, had him bent over and held steady with a firm hand on his bound arms. Then, without so much as a grunt of his own, rushing pleasure, Hannibal fucked into him. He was already open. Already _dripping_ with his need. Will cried out through the sudden breach, like his lungs had just been punched straight out of his throat. His breath, gone. All he could feel was the sudden thickness of Hannibal’s cock inside of him.

“Hannibal—”

“You’re meant for this.” Hannibal cut him off with the first hard thrust forward. “If you would stop denying it and just—” another thrust, hard, and Will cried out into the wall, “—let yourself be used. Be a good boy, Will. You know how much I like it when you behave.”

Will shuddered, clenched down as those words alone sent a rush of throbbing pleasure through his cunt. Unfair. Will was completely and entirely _helpless_. If it weren’t for Hannibal’s hard grip on him, he would be flat on the floor. It made him feel lightheaded, _good_. Hannibal fucked into him hard, fast. Clearly just seeking his own pleasure—using Will like he was nothing more than a pretty toy. The thought had a rush of warmth spreading out. Each time Hannibal bottomed out, Will groaned, cried out—another breathy sound right from the throat.

It was so good, that thickness burst inside of him. Hannibal breached him open again and again, hips strong and slapping against his backside. The panties hadn’t even needed to be removed. They were perfect for this: no fabric in the crotch to keep Will’s cunt covered. Just open space, just enough for Hannibal to do _this_. Push him into the wall, fuck him for all he was worth. Will’s thighs were shaking. He didn’t know how he was still standing, how he was still doing _anything_.

He was made for this, and he wasn’t about to deny it. At least for the rest of the day, not with how Hannibal’s cock fucked into him, filled him up. He clenched down in his own pleasure, almost desperate to get off like this alone. Like a _good boy_ , as Hannibal said. Good boys didn’t need their clits touched. All Will needed was a cock in his cunt to have him coming over the edge, and he was right there. Right there at the precipice, his entire body thrumming in a white-hot heat of pleasure, when Hannibal came.

Hannibal’s hips stuttered, and he fucked in _deep_ as he came. Spending inside of Will. Will could feel it. Every warm, hot streak inside of him. He was so close. So close—if Hannibal would just move his hips, grind into him, _something_. But Hannibal pulled back, spent, and grabbed the plug almost as fast as he’d gotten rid of it.

“Hannibal—” Will tried to complain, but his voice turned to a hard gasp as the plug was pressed back inside of him.

“You’ll come when I call, won’t you?” Hannibal asked.

Will nodded, hurriedly. He’d fallen right back down off his high, and now he was just _frustrated_. He’d come whenever Hannibal called if it meant he could come. This was. Cruel. Something. He wanted more of it. He wanted Hannibal back inside him, but he was left with the feeling of that plug shifting against his walls, rubbing him in all the wrong places so it wasn’t _good_. Not good enough to tip him over the edge, but not so bad that he didn’t yearn to have something more. Torture. Hannibal was too good at this.

Hannibal didn’t even pull his jeans back up. He kicked them away from Will, nearly pulling him back to get him to step out of the mounds of fabric around his ankle. Will tumbled back, but Hannibal was just there. Catching him. Will almost hated the way it made his breath hitch in his throat, like he was some pathetic maiden in need of Hannibal’s hand. And god, if he wasn’t. He wanted Hannibal’s hand back down in his cunt. Just one tweak of his fingers would be enough to have Will finally, _finally_ there, but Hannibal did not touch him.

The next time Will was called on, it was to drop down to his knees between Hannibal’s spread thighs and suck his cock all the way into the back of his throat and _stay_. Hannibal had his hand tangled up through Will’s hair, holding him right where he wanted him. He stroked along Will’s scalp, just enough of his nails that the smallest tingle of pain ran down Will’s spine and made him squirm with want. The weight in his mouth was enough to take him places.

Will closed his eyes, swallowing around Hannibal’s cockhead. Hannibal was working on something—he could hear the shuffling of papers. Case files, maybe, or client notes. It could just be blank paper, for all Will knew. He didn’t care. He hated the paper all the same, because it was keeping Hannibal from _him_. All he had was this, kneeling stiffly on the floor with his lips stretched over Hannibal’s cock. Even as he sucked, swallowed, Hannibal made no noise.

All he did was ensure Will’s head did not move, unless he needed a moment of air. They had a system down, perfectly. It was difficult without hands, but Hannibal knew the exact grunt Will made when he needed something, and he always obliged. Will breathed hard, gagged over nothing, and sunk right back down over Hannibal’s cock.

Will had an active imagination, and it suited him well. He could close his eyes and imagine the situation were different, enough that he moaned deep in his throat and sent a shiver down through Hannibal’s cock. It twitched in his mouth, and Will knew just how it would feel in his cunt, instead. Lying on his back with his legs spread out, hiked up over Hannibal’s shoulders as Hannibal fucked into him with abandon. A wild animal with his hair disheveled, his jaw dropped open.

He would groan so deeply each time Will clenched down around him. Hannibal wouldn’t be able to hold on—he always lost himself when he was inside of Will. He would collapse down, his hands through Will’s hair and their lips slotted together. They would kiss and kiss, grinding together until Will mustered the strength to flip them. And he would. Hannibal would let it happen, let himself be pushed down into the mattress while Will sat on his cock and squeezed down around him, chasing his own pleasure.

He’d make Hannibal beg for it, to see the sight of Will bouncing over him. Riding him like _he_ was the wild animal, this time. Will would brace himself on Hannibal’s chest, squeezing his nails into the flesh as he worked himself back onto that throbbing cock over and over again. They might even come at the same time—it’d happened before. Always with well-timed swipe of Hannibal’s fingers through his cunt, over his clit. Will always fell right apart, and Hannibal followed near instantaneously as Will’s heat became a wet vice-grip.

Will moaned around Hannibal’s cock, felt as Hannibal stroked back though his hair. He opened his eyes again, looked up to see Hannibal leaning back on the couch and _watching_ him. A leering gaze. A predator.

“You must be thinking about something pretty,” Hannibal said.

Will hadn’t even noticed. He’d been grinding down on the plug inside of him, his thighs spread wide enough that his ass was on the carpet. He was making a mess, but Hannibal wouldn’t say anything. Wouldn’t do anything. Will looked at him so prettily, batting eyelashes as he sucked on the cock in his throat, bobbed his head now that he could.

It didn’t take long to have Hannibal coming apart in his mouth, spending right down Will’s throat. Hannibal even groaned, leaning his head over the back of the couch and straining his neck. It was glorious, the way that it felt. Will’s throat was hot and tight around the head of his cock, his mouth slick and inviting. Never any teeth, unless Will got _adventurous_. Liked teeth on himself, too. Hannibal nibbling at his labia, over the hood of his clit. Will shuddered to himself; watching Hannibal come undone was almost enough. Almost.

All at once, Hannibal pushed Will off of him. He did do something; he grabbed Will and forced him up just enough that his legs gave out from underneath him. He was nearly laying on the floor. It’d been a blur. Will didn’t know if Hannibal had kicked him or what, just that he was on the floor, and his face was int he mess that he’d made.

“Clean it,” Hannibal said. “I won’t have you soiling my belongings.”

Will shuddered. Especially when Hannibal spoke again. Quieter.

“Color?” He asked.

“Fuck you,” Will responded, and he licked right through his mess of slick. Hannibal visibly shuddered. That was a _green_ if he’d ever seen it.

Dinnertime came too soon, yet not soon enough. Will was called into the kitchen, and Hannibal’s eyes were on him the moment he stepped on. Will’s thighs were tired and sticky. He was a mess of his own slick, and as much as it made him flush with embarrassment, it made Hannibal’s eyes go wide. Fondness. Hannibal was basically licking at his chops by the time Will rounded the counter. There was a suspiciously clean space, and Will was about to ask if Hannibal was really going to try and make him _help_ with dinner before his breath was shoved right out of his lungs.

Hannibal bent Will over the counter, his face pressed into the cool marble. Will shivered, gasped when he finally had his breath back. He tried to look over his shoulder, a defiant glare on his face. That almost hurt. But Hannibal was grinning at him, and that grin had Will broke apart all over again.

“Stay there,” Hannibal said. “Look pretty for me while I work, will you?”

Will nodded.

“This dish takes some time to cook, and I would like to enjoy myself while we wait.”

Fuck. Will closed his eyes and nodded again. But then he opened them, because he couldn’t stand not watching this. Watching Hannibal prepare a meal was a whole different type of pleasure. It was an art form—Will couldn’t even bring himself to hate the way it made pleasure pool in his gut. Hannibal was so practiced with a knife it was arousing. He was only chopping vegetables, but Will could see the fish. Freshly caught rainbow trout from a trip he had been on just the prior weekend.

Hannibal started with the vegetables, making a show out of it. He knew Will was watching him, and he knew how Will felt about him with a knife. It was a dastardly sort of pleasure, because it was dangerous. Hannibal could kill Will at any time, and he knew it. Give him a knife, and that time became threatening closer to the present. Will got off on it. The danger. The threat. He put his life in Hannibal’s hands time after time, and always came out on the other end shaking with his orgasm and a new scar to idly trace in the shower as he shoved his fingers into himself in reverent memory.

It was villainous, too, the way Hannibal took care of the fish. He butterflied them open, no doubt talking about what he was going to do to prepare them. Will wasn’t listening. Just watching. Feeling pleasure pool in his stomach. His cunt was practically throbbing with need. He was straining, now—it felt like the plug would fall out of him any minute, and he so desperately wanted to be a _good boy_ for Hannibal.

He had to watch everything Hannibal did. Every slow, tedious motion. All of the sake of having something lovely for dinner. Hannibal had never disappointed, no matter the protein he cooked. Will was straight to the point of looking forward to it—wanted Hannibal to tell him exactly what they were eating and exactly how they’d come into such a protein. He wanted to hear every gruesome detail—maybe he got off on it. Maybe he didn’t. Hannibal would never get to know.

When Hannibal had finally gotten the dish in the oven, he went to the sink to wash his hands. Those hands went right from the water to Will’s skin, no towel in the middle. Just wetness dripping down Will’s hips as Hannibal grabbed him and pulled him back just slight enough that everything was on display. Hannibal ran his wet fingers down between Will’s thighs, feeling in circles around the base of the plug.

“So wet,” Hannibal muttered. “Amazing you’ve not made more of a mess. You wouldn’t do that, though, would you? Learned your lesson.”

“Learned my lesson,” Will parroted, nodding against the counter. He gasped as Hannibal took hold of the plug just to press it into him deeper. The awful, wet noises that resulted were enough to have Will trembling, already.

“Poor thing. I haven’t been taking care of you, have I?”

“It’s fine,” Will muttered, slurred. “Want to take care of you.”

Hannibal smiled. “Of course.”

He got right to it, then. It’s what Will wanted, after all. Hannibal palmed himself through his pants, wondering idly just what to do with this perfectly delectable piece of meat out in front of him. He took two handfuls of Will’s ass, pulling him open. Such a mess. Dripping in slick, in water now, too. Hannibal almost had a mind to just leave him there, but his aching cock said otherwise. And Will was being so good for him, so pliant. Hannibal couldn’t help but have a taste—he’d certainly earned it, for all of his work.

Hannibal, once more, didn’t bother with his clothing. He just pulled his cock out of his open pants and was quick about everything else. The plug was gone, sat on the counter where Will could see it—see what a complete and total mess it was. Hannibal’s cock replaced it before Will could even moan about the loss. His groan came from the sharp feeling of being filled so suddenly, so _perfectly_. Hannibal’s cock throbbed inside of him, twitched, and a moment later, Hannibal was moving.

“F- _fuck_ ,” Will gasped. Never given even a moment to think before Hannibal was fucking into him. Always hard, nearly painful. Their skin slapped together, and the awful, wet noises that filled the room had Will just groaning louder, begging for more.

There was no friction, just the fucking size of Hannibal inside of him for him to focus on. He clenched down, another hard cry as Hannibal changed the angle of his hips. It was nearly too much. Will was over-sensitive by now, and every brush of that spot inside him had him gasping, crying out like he might even want it to stop. But it was too good. That borderline feeling of too much and not enough was right where he wanted to be. Teetering on the edge of so much pleasure it was unbearable and yet still finding no end to it.

“H-Hannibal,” Will managed out. “Oh— _fuck_ —harder. Harder—”

“As you say,” Hannibal replied, always so happy to please.

He grabbed Will by his arms and used the leverage to yank Will back down the length of his cock with each thrust. They slapped together, skin hard against skin. Every time Will groaned, his walls clenched down. He could never be tight; not like this. He was too aroused, too turned on to be anything other than a loose and sloppy hole. Hannibal fucked into him harder, just as requested, and the piston motion was enough for both of them. Nearly.

It didn’t take Hannibal long to find his rhythm, nor long to lose it. He had Will in his grasp, nearly shouting through the force of every thrust. He was helpless but to reach his own crest of pleasure, that wet heat around him. It came quick, and Hannibal was spending inside of Will once more.

“Please, please—” Will gasped, begged. He tried to move, tried to get _more_ , but Hannibal held him stead against the counter until Will swore he was going to start crying. “ _More_ ,” he gasped, but no more came.

Hannibal pulled out, once his orgasm had finished, and used a kitchen towel to wipe himself down before tucking his cock back into his pants. Will was trembling in front of him, visibly, and holding onto the countertop like it was his lifeline.

“Poor dear,” Hannibal said, his tone nearly mocking. “Dinner should be ready soon.”

“Great,” Will croaked. “Can’t fucking wait.”

Hannibal grinned, and Will didn’t see it. He was dismissed, after that, and his plug was not returned. Hannibal even made the decision to untie Will’s hands, though they were quickly bound again in front of him. _For dinner_ , he’d said, as if that meant anything. If Will was going to have to eat dinner with bound hands and soiled panties, he didn’t know what he was going to do with himself. It sounded equally hot as it did humiliating, and he couldn’t fathom having to sit through it.

However, when dinner came, Will quickly found that the table was entirely empty. He didn’t stand there in the dining room for more than a few seconds before Hannibal was pulling him in, right to the head of the table where he usually sat. In one impressive display of strength, Hannibal hoisted Will off the ground and sat him on the edge of the table, then pushed him back into the wood as he lay flat against it. His legs dangled off the edge, spread out wide enough that Hannibal could see everything.

“I’ve decided the fish will be for later in the evening,” Hannibal said, caressing Will’s inner thighs which his thumbs. “I’ve been rather mean to you today, I believe. I hope to make it up to you.”

Will shuddered. “Just—whatever you’re going to do. I feel like I’m about to die.”

“Now, now. You’ve been very patient. I believe you can wait a moment more.”

Will huffed, but he waited. He felt lips against his thigh, Hannibal’s teasing bites as he moved from the knee upward, following an invisible line along the inner side. Will shivered as Hannibal’s mouth neared his cunt. Right there, mere inches; Hannibal stopped to suck yet another blooming purple mark, and Will groaned in his frustration. He’d been kept at the peak’s edge all day, and he was ready to go tumbling head-first down the other side.

His patience was well rewarded. It didn’t take more than a moment, as Hannibal said, for Will to suddenly feel wet warmth against him. Hannibal lapped right through his slit, catching the taste of his slick, the taste of Will, on his tongue and groaning. He laved over Will’s clit, then paused only to situate his hands on Will’s hips to keep him from moving. His hips bucked, and he squirmed. Desperate for more, but Hannibal kept him still. He heard how Will struggled with his bonds, an innate need to get his hands in Hannibal’s hair and pull him _closer_. But nothing of the sort would happen.

Hannibal was quite proud of himself. He mouthed over the whole of Will’s cunt, then took his time tasting each bit of skin with the tip of his tongue. He dragged it through the seam of Will’s labia, through his slit. Over his hole. He crested once more over Will’s clit, where he finally pressed his lips, and Will nearly spasmed right there. His back arched off the table, and he cried out as Hannibal sucked on him. He was dangerously good at this. Knew just where Will wanted it, how to send him over that proverbial edge.

“Please, please—” Will gasped. “Right there, oh— _fuck_ , I’m so close.”

If Hannibal were a lesser man, he might have stopped to drag this out even longer, but Will deserved this. He’d been so good, after all, waiting all day for his final performance. Hannibal pressed harder against him, shifting down to tongue at his hole. He pressed inside a moment later, and Will nearly shouted. Will came undone in seconds, after that, Hannibal’s tongue tucked up inside him and nose against his clit with each movement of lip.

Will was left shaking, his pleasure gushing out against Hannibal’s mouth. Hannibal lapped at it—kept the sensitivity rising and lingering until Will finally stilled against the table, just breathing hard. Then, Hannibal pulled back and grabbed for a napkin, dabbing down his face as if he’d just partaken in some fine delicacy. Just as he should, because Will knew he was just about the best thing Hannibal had ever had in his mouth.

“Fuck,” Will gasped. “I want a fucking shower.”

“And you shall have it,” Hannibal said. “Might I suggest a bath, though? We still have those wonderful lavender scented salts.”

Will hummed. “That sounds good. Sounds like less work.”

“Oh, yes, indeed. Shall I be joining you, or would you prefer to go this alone?”

Hannibal stood up, and before he could go anywhere, Will’s legs shot around his hips and pulled him in close. Will ground into his hips, wet and sloppy cunt right up against the fine fabric of his pants. Hannibal’s shock did not go unnoticed. In fact, it just made Will grin.

“If you think I’m done with you,” Will said, “then you haven’t been paying attention.”

“Is that so?” Hannibal returned his own grin. “By all means, then, Will—” he tugged loose the tie of Will’s wrists and let him go. “Show me what you had in mind.”

It took some maneuvering, but Hannibal carried Will upstairs to the master bathroom. Dinner was just a forgotten thought, at that point. They had a bath to take, together, and Will intended to spend the whole of it sitting on Hannibal’s cock and making _him_ beg for a change. Will was excited just at the thought of it; he was oversensitive at this point, but a few tears in the eyes would be worth it to hear Hannibal’s desperate pleas.

**Author's Note:**

>   
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> 


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